


Paladin's Reign: Everlasting

by SargentStadanko



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentStadanko/pseuds/SargentStadanko
Summary: The Paladins have always fought against the Galran Empire, a rival gang from the other side of the city. A short hiatus allows Lotor's crew to gain some territory- but Lance won't stand for it.





	Paladin's Reign: Everlasting

The inside of the barn was warm and quiet. Light fanned through the skylights in a wash of pale white, milky against the dark wood of the walls and scattered support beams. It was dark closer to the floor, shadows cast against expensive computers, cables, and metal tools, all neatly placed on wooden countertops. A single silhouette stood at a waist-high table, head down. Lance shivered as he closed the door behind him, happy to leave the cold outdoors where it belonged. He approached the man at the table, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn.

“I want an adventure, Shiro,” Lance whined. “All we ever do anymore is creep around our territory to maintain a presence. We’re like unpaid security guards. It’s not fair.”  
“You want an adventure?” Shiro asked with a knowing laugh, turning from his table. Lance eyed his shiny metal arm, appreciating the black skin-tight shirt and the dark gray cargo pants before lifting his gaze to meet his leader’s. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Fine. Take Keith. Go on an adventure. Do whatever you want.” Shiro turned back around, his shoulders slightly hunched forward, his arms shifting as he tinkered with something. “Rouse the rival gangs. Start a war. Go give our trade over to Lotor’s crew.”

“Yeah, 'cause Allura would totally let that happen,” Keith scoffed as he walked into the room, arms crossed over the front of his signature red, white, and yellow jacket, a utility. “Calm your shit, Lance. Shiro isn’t being serious.” Lance felt his features relax and he sighed, looking down for a moment. 

“Keith, you feel it too, don’t you? We’re not active enough, people are probably thinking we’ve gone underground or somethin’. We need to do something to change their minds, like make some merch and sell it on a street corner, host a kickass party and invite only the baddest of the bad…” Keith’s expression didn’t change, so Lance added a, “y’know?”

“Yeah, I do know, but unless Allura gives the order, I’m fine with hanging out here all day.”

“All day, every day,” Lance murmured, and Keith’s fist collided with his shoulder roughly. “Ow! Hey, c’mon, man.”

“Shut up, McClain.”

“Make me.”

“That’s enough, you two,” Shiro cut in. This time he was turned around, hands on his hips. “It’s bad enough you skip school all the time and stay up all night. You want people to notice us, do something worth noticing.” Shiro motioned with his chin at Lance, giving him a once over. “I don’t want anyone calling you ‘that gang kid’ or telling you you’re going to die early because you’re part of The Paladins. There could be a face to us that looks good from the outside, but you have to create it.” Lance knew he looked uncomfortable because Keith reached a hand out and put it on his shoulder, the same shoulder he’d so recently punched. Lance pushed him away half-heartedly, shaking his head.

“Like a PR rep or something.”

“Sure,” Shiro said with a shrug, “I guess we could use one of those.”

“I’m not even out of high school yet though, who’s going to take a seventeen-year-old PR rep seriously?”

“I’m not saying you’re going to be a PR rep. Look at it this way: you’re your _own_ PR rep, and everything you do sets an impression on anyone who is watching.”

“Well, who’s watching?” Lance asked, and Shiro gave him a look that seemed both sad and stern all at once.

“Everyone.”

xx.

Lance closed the tall steel door behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he watched his breath spiral past his cheek and up into the light gray sky. “Snow soon,” he muttered to himself, surprised when he heard the door grate open again. Suddenly there was a body beside him, falling in step. 

“Feels like it’s gonna snow,” Keith said, watching Lance from behind his raven bangs. Lance smiled, looking at the ground. 

“Yeah.”

“Where you headed?”

Lance looked up again, straight ahead through the frozen grass to the little wooden bridge and beyond to the dirt road that extended far into the distance. He could practically feel the dampness soaking into his gray and blue hightops, hoping his jeans were going to be warm enough for the trip. 

“Town square, I guess.”

“I’m coming with you.” Keith said in a tone that said ‘don’t argue with me.' Lance didn’t. The sound of Keith’s red and white boots crunched through the freezing grass and as their companionable silence deepened, Lance found himself irked by the absence of the scrape and grate of shoes against dirt; Keith had a weird habit of refusing to use the path unless Shiro was around. Thankfully, over the bridge his boots turned to a _clunk clunk clunk_ and Lance was smiling again. 

“How long have we been friends now?” he asked, looking up. The weather wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t raining or snowing and his green jacket was doing a decent job of insulating.

“Uh… about a year?” Keith replied. “If you count when we didn’t like each other, longer.”

“Why would you count that? I said _friends_ , not bitter rivals,” Lance scoffed, zipping up his jacket.

“Bitter? I was never bitter, are you trying to say something, Lance?” Keith prodded, turning to examine him, an eyebrow raised curiously.

“You weren’t bitter?”

“Were you?”

“No. Why would I be bitter?”

“You said bitter rivals…”

“Yeah, it was obviously just an expression, Mr. We-Didn't-Like-Each-Other.”

“An expression of what exactly?” Keith asked, his eyebrows suddenly coming together in the middle. Lance scoffed.

“An expression, Keith. A literary expression.”

“Whatever.”

Lance realized they had stopped on the bridge, their backs against opposite metal railings. Adried-up stream snaked along beneath. It wasn’t very wide, they were only a foot apart, arms crossed stubbornly in an attempt to evade personal attack. Lance dropped his hands to his sides, leaning back against his railing with both forearms. 

“Okay so we’ve been friends for about a year. Yeah?”

“I said whatever. Why does it matter?”

“Because it does. Because you’re one of the coolest people I know. You and Shiro and Hunk and Pidge…” The mountains ghosted at his left peripheral, spanning down the line towards the city. Houses in two minute intervals were scattered along the road and through fields, rustic browns and reds that never looked out of place. “Imagine if we’d never met. Where would we be right now?”

“Not in a gang, probably.”

“Why you gotta say it like that, huh?” Lance said airily, turning shielded eyes back to Keith. He searched his features, but the older boy was just as guarded, if not more so.

“Because this isn’t what anyone would want for us.”

“But it’s what I want.”

“Is it, Lance? Did you always dream of being in a gang?”

“I mean who hasn’t?” Lance pushed himself off of the rail, standing up tall. “It’s like the family you never had. Brothers who have your back no matter what. It’s amazing.”

“It’s deadly, and I thought you were smarter than this.”

Lance saw a flash of pain in Keith’s gaze before the boy turned his head away. It sparked a hollowness in Lance’s chest that he couldn’t describe, a squeezing of his heart that left it feeling empty and longing. His empathy for others always seemed to rip open his own wounds. Keith was hurting, but so what. So was he. Everyone was hurting, probably.

“Well, I guess I’m not as smart as you thought,” Lance said pointedly, watching Keith’s lips quirk at the corner in a smirk that lasted only a moment. “I’m just some dumb high schooler who joined a gang and probably won’t survive long enough to achieve all my dreams, but I don’t care. What I have right now is a family.” He raised a hand, placing it over his heart, leaning towards Keith just a little. I need a family, okay? I don’t want to not be _complete_ , inside.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Like you’re any better.” 

Keith looked stung, disgusted really, and he suddenly turned, spitting a ‘tch’ at the wooden floor of the bridge as he stormed off of it.

“Hey!” Lance called, hurrying to catch up, his hands finding his pockets again. “What? Don’t get so offended.”

“You don’t know anything about me, McClain.”

“I wasn’t even talking about you? I was talking about how I need a family,” Lance said, confused. It seemed to strike something within Keith because he looked slightly surprised, like he’d just remembered something. “But if you feel the same way, you can just say so.”

“I don’t,” Keith huffed.

“Fine. You don’t,” Lance muttered, throwing an annoyed glance at his friend. Keith returned it, meeting his gaze with an equally fierce one.

“Look, I don’t need a family the way you do. I’ve never had a family. That’s life for me, I’m used to it. I’m not about to start getting close to people that might let me down, or that I might lose. Only an idiot would let that happen.”

“So, what? You could just turn your back on us tomorrow?” Lance asked as he threw his arms into the air. “On me?”

“Probably.”

“Are you for real right now?” Green sleeves folded over themselves as he crossed his arms, looking down at the orange band around his bicep dejectedly.

“’Don’t get so offended’,” Keith said in a mocking tone, narrowing his eyes at the other with a turn of his head.

“Maybe I should tell Shiro then, that you’re not really invested in this- that this is just a temporary venture for you and you don’t plan on sticking around.”

“I think Shiro already knows that.”

“What? No he doesn’t!”

“Shiro’s way more perceptive than you. Hiding things from him is like trying to hide things from your own heart. He just, knows.”

“That’s not, true…” Lance stuttered, shaking his head. “Shiro isn’t as perceptive as me. I’ve always known you better, I… It doesn’t matter, you can’t just tell me you don’t consider us family.”

“What do you want me to say, Lance? I’ll be here for you forever? That I’d take a bullet for you? That I’d _die_ for you?” Keith asked, and Lance met his gaze, breathless. Was that what he wanted? The seconds ticked past, drawing him further into the blue-gray depths of Keith’s eyes: the dark surface with bright flecks of color around the pupil, an iris that spun out like a galaxy or an ocean, drawing waves to the outer circle of a stormy sea-

“Sh-shit,” he sputtered as he fought to regain his balance, tripping over his own foot. His hands flew out of his pockets as the feeling of falling kicked on his survival instincts. His heart pounded at the near miss and he was taken aback when he heard Keith _laughing_.

“They usually say people should watch where they’re going,” Keith teased.

“Yeah well whoever says that is stupid.”

“That makes no sense,” Keith said quietly. Lance groaned, rolling his eyes, hoping the heat in his cheeks was a side effect of surprise and not the moment they’d just shared. They walked in silence for a while after that, bumping arms occasionally, trying to smile without being seen. Keith’s boots were surprisingly quiet as they crossed from the small dirt road to the wide communal one. Lance examined the tractor tire patterns and the animal footprints as he walked over them, his head trailing after him when he spotted a particularly large cat print. Normally they would dirt bike to the city or hitch a ride in the back of a pickup truck but today, Lance felt like walking. It was cold and it was clear out, the perfect setting for an afternoon full of nostalgia.

Thirty minutes later and they were at the city’s edge. They’d passed at least twenty houses on the left side of the street and fifteen on the right. Keith had looked straight ahead nearly the entire time.

“You okay?” Lance asked finally, looking down at his shoes as they tapped paved concrete, feeling like the first astronaut on the moon. The path had been much more buoyant.

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason.” 

Walking the crosswalk from this side to the next was a silent demonstration for any Paladin. Crossing the line between buoyant brown and paved gray was an acknowledgement of stepping into hostile territory. Lance wiggled his fingers in his pockets, swinging his head from side to side lazily, searching for any curious faces. Finding none, he led the way, knowing it would be another ten minutes before they reached town square. 

“What do you wanna do?” Lance asked. Keith scoffed, whipping his head towards the younger boy.

“Do? I thought you had… I thought you wanted to… don’t tell me I just walked forty minutes and you don’t have a plan in mind.” Keith’s tone went from angry to defeated and  
Lance raised his hands defensively, smirking.

“Look, I have plenty in mind, but I wanted to give you the opportunity to share your ideas.”

“Wow. _Amazing_. You’re such a liar.”

“I know,” Lance said, raising his shoulders up near his ears, eyes closed in an exaggerated smile. “I’m thinking the Lighthouse, the mall, and when it gets dark, a visit to Akuma’s Mansion.”

“Akuma’s Mansion? Are you crazy?”

“Not usually.”

“Yes, you are. You’re always crazy. I thought you wanted to be a PR rep for the Paladins? This is the exact opposite.”

“Says who? I just want to see some of my old work, it’s not like I brought a spray can or anything.”

“No? You’re not hiding one in your hood? Or your pants?” Keith asked, looking away with disinterest.

“Want to pat me down and find out?” Lance retorted, more confidently than he’d expected to. Keith didn’t look back at him, his expression stony and focused. It was obvious the black-haired boy hated the city without a full entourage, but Lance knew they could watch each other’s backs. 

“Fine. Lighthouse. Mall. Akuma’s Mansion, but we aren’t staying long.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m not going to feed your delusions, Lance. We’re just not, and I’m not letting you stay there alone, either- in fact,” Keith stopped walking, turning to the other boy, his hand planting right in the middle of Lance’s chest. His eyes were stormy. “Make me a promise, now. We aren’t staying out past eight.”

“Eight? What are we, five years old? I haven’t had a curfew since-“

“Eight,” Keith repeated sternly. Lance glared back at him, and it took a moment for him to realize the hand was still firmly planted against his chest. He could feel it through all of his layers; the pressure, not the warmth. “Eight,” Keith said once more, roughly, dropping his arm as he began to turn. His gaze swept Lance’s jacket from top to bottom and back again, catching his eyes once more before he was gone, walking ahead with a confident tilt of his chin.

What was that? Lance asked himself, blinking at the black mullet leading the way, following in a stupor. That touch had lingered, the way Keith had looked at him… He cleared his throat when he realized he was trying to picture it all over again, dissipating his thoughts like a hand waved through smoke.

It was interesting to think that they’d been friends only a year or so. Lance couldn’t remember a time that Keith hadn’t been throwing orders back in his face or questioning his leadership. It was so commonplace that he often felt lonely or bare if the other wasn’t following after him or being told to accompany him. ‘Buddy system’ was a ground rule for Paladin minors: sometimes Hunk was around to adventure with and sometimes Keith and Pidge went off together to do whatever nerds did. Usually he saw Keith at the barn, and once or twice he’d picked him up from his house down the road, closer to their high school. It was nice to kick it with him like this, no responsibilities or time restraints. Friday nights were good for two things: finding friends and finding trouble.

The city grew around them as they walked. Suburban trailer parks close to the edge, slowly became townhouses and apartments, then restaurants and businesses stretching down streets and around corners. He knew the way like the back of his hand, eventually finding himself beside Keith instead of behind him. Their pace was relaxed and Lance found himself enjoying deep breaths of chilly air, life pouring through his veins like a frozen liquor- not that he’d ever had liquor before, or would admit to anyone over the age of eighteen about it. He glanced at Keith, examining the side of his face as it angled slightly away from him, the boy’s eyes moving as he studied storefronts and windows. Suddenly, 

“Hey Loverboy.”

“Huh?” Lance asked, caught off guard. He stiffened at Keith’s laugh, feeling like prey who’d just been pawed out from under a rock and exposed. 

“You got a weird look on your face.”

“What?”

“Do you always look like that when you look at me?” Keith’s lips were way too smooth. He was obviously happy with himself, all smug and calm in his stupid red and white jacket, watching Lance like he’d cornered him. The younger tried to regain his composure, forcing his eyebrows back into a neutral position.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your reflection says it all,” Keith prefaced, holding a hand out to the storefront window they were walking past. Lance felt his chest tighten, his veins that had so recently felt alive suddenly freezing over with embarrassment. This was not good, he couldn’t let Keith win this.

“So you were watching me.”

“As if.”

“How else would you know?”

“Don’t turn this around on me, loser.” Keith laughed, and Lance smiled.

“So you were watching me. It’s okay, you can say it.”

“Dude, I wasn’t.”

“Uh-huh. It’s fine, I’d be watching me if I were you, too.” As soon as he said it Lance curled his fingers in his pockets, pressing his fingernails into his palm, excitement rushing through him. This banter felt elevated somehow, more energetic and engaged. His pulse had never been so effected by anyone, or his adrenaline. 

“You’re weird, McClain.”

It was electric, Keith’s response was playful, he was smiling, _genuinely_ … What was this? Why hadn’t he felt it before? Lance gathered his courage, trying to figure out where to take this, praying to stay calm and cool, calm and cool- what would someone who was totally in control of his situation do if he was attempting to flirt? Pretend to be disinterested, use an inside joke to show a special connection, bring up a memory that only they shared… 

Ever since he’d met Keith, the guy had been adamant on Lance calling him by his first name. Kogane was reserved for Shiro, Red came from Pidge on occasion. Of course, there was that time Lance had called him Mullet, long before they’d been close, and Keith had threatened to fight him over it. He hadn’t said it since, hadn’t been brave enough to…  
“Weird and proud, Mullet, weird and proud,” he said confidently, even lifting his chin a little.

“Mmph,” Keith responded, rolling his eyes, exhaling briefly through his nose like an angered bull. He looked away, and Lance stared straight ahead, his heart racing.  
_Crap, it didn’t work, it didn’t work, abort mission, Houston we have a probl-_

“Whatever.” Keith’s voice made Lance turn his head, and Keith was smirking. Smirking. Lance had been expecting another punch to the shoulder or an angry torrent of empty threats. Instead he got a smirk. This was beyond good. This was great. This was amazing.

“Really? You’re not gonna fight me over it?” he prodded, just to make sure. Keith’s head tilted away from him slightly, the eyebrow closest to Lance lifting a few centimeters.

“You want me to?”

“No.”

“Then no. I’m not.” Keith replied simply, and when Lance finally lifted his gaze away he knew something had changed.

xx.

The Lighthouse was a little gelato shoppe on the third floor of the mall overlooking the city. It had a spiral staircase leading to an upper deck with prime viewing seats that were almost always full and giant windows you could stand in front of if you were brave enough to look down. It was a mixture of the sweet dessert and the bird’s eye view that always called to Lance, and he sighed contently, sucking the mango gelato off of his spoon. “The highest point in town. I feel like a king,” he said dreamily, distracted momentarily by his reflection in the glass, having to force himself to look through it again. “I never get tired of this. You can see all the way to the farm from here.”

“Yeah, and you can see Lotor’s HQ from here,“ Keith muttered. “If we had a rocket launcher right now,” he began, lifting his arms up, his hands holding an invisible weapon out in front of him, one eye closed as if he was looking down a scope.

“Well that’s terrifying,” Lance raised his eyebrows, digging another spoonful of dessert out from the plastic bowl. “Pretty violent. Think of the children.”

“Says the guy who’s always begging to start a war.”

“Hey,” Lance said, lowering his spoon hand to his hip, “a war that doesn’t involve civilian casualties. A rocket launcher would blow up the street corner, you’re not thinking practically.”

“What’s practical about a war?”

“Nothing, I guess…”

“Exactly.”

“Anyways, we should get shopping. I can eat and walk,” Lance prompted. Neither of them turned from the window though, and Keith eventually crossed his arms over his chest. His expression in the window was armoured, Lance eyed him wearily, wondering what was on his mind. Their friendship had always been a little bit tense, but lately it had been growing. What was once friendly competition had become a dangerous desire to outdo the other with any means necessary. Today was the first day Keith had smiled at him like that in a long time. Standing together at the highest point in the city, Lance felt a kinship lighting from the embers of their connection. The angles of Keith’s face read like a story, and Lance was sure if he stared just a little longer, he’d be able to figure him out…

“Lance?” Keith asked. Lance blinked. Keith blinked back. There was spilled half-melted mango on the floor by his shoe and he was pretty sure Keith had noticed it too.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re weirding me out now, with the whole, staring thing?”

“Staring? Pssh, no, I wasn’t staring, I was… y’know, tired. Daydreaming, and stuff.”

“Okay, well, you wanted to go?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. Let’s go,” he said with a sharp exhale, glancing at the sticky dessert on the hardwood before he turned. Had he really been so lost in thought about Keith? The guy was pretty mysterious, there was lots to wonder about him, to get lost in… Lance headed for the door, dropping his leftover gelato into the trash can on his way out. He couldn’t finish it after that interaction, his stomach was alight with odd sensations and his palms felt clammy. Daydreaming about Keith Kogane. This wasn’t about to be a thing.

“Are we browsing today or did you have something in mind?” Keith asked after they’d successfully exited the hallway into a round atrium, storefronts lining the wooden flooring. Lance squinted at the storefront sale signs, holding his chin with his thumb and index finger thoughtfully. What did he want, that was always the question.

“Browsing. Although, new shoes never hurt anybody.”

“I don’t know how you can afford a new pair every week.”

“You know exactly how,” Lance said, giving Keith a playful sideways smile. He knew how cute he looked when he did that, he’d only practiced it twelve million times in the mirror before.

“Yeah, well… proceeds of crime aren’t something to be proud of.”

“Dude, don’t be a buzz kill.”

“Don’t be a criminal.”

“What do you think gangs do, man? Give candy to babies? Help the elderly?”

“We should be using our influence to stop bad people from doing bad things. That is an option, you know.”

“Yeah, except that we control half the drug trade in the city, so….” Lance said quietly, his eyes sliding to Keith. “We can’t push drugs and be good guys, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Then we stop making drugs at all, and we help people out where it’s needed most.” 

Lance turned to face the other boy, his expression showing his concern for Keith’s ideas quite clearly. He looked him up and down, shaking his head. “Are you for real?”

“Yes. I’m for real.”

“How did you even get into gang life?”

“None of your business.”

“It wasn’t the glory? The money? The babes and the parties?”

“No.”

“Then what? Spill.”

“It was… my mother.”

“I… oh…” Lance stopped, lost for words. He swallowed hard, and when Keith didn’t offer an explanation, he prodded further. “Uh, you mind me, asking-“

“Yeah. I do. You didn’t care before, so don’t pretend to care now.”

“Hey! Who said I didn’t care before?”

“Just shut up,” Keith growled, and suddenly Lance realized they were inching towards each other, aggressively trying to be the tallest, the biggest presence-the scariest. 

“Fine. When you’re ready, you can talk to me,” Lance offered, standing in place, taking his hands out of his pockets. “And I’ll listen,” he added for good measure. Keith looked like he was about to retort, but instead he backed down, taking a step away from the other. 

“Fine,” Keith repeated, holding Lance’s gaze. Whenever he got really worked up like that, Lance thought Keith’s eyes held a certain depth to him that pierced his soul and revealed the broken pieces. They floated like chunks of glass on the surface of his irises, and Lance wanted to pick them out one by one or smooth them over… It was painful to look at, Keith held so much of himself inside, wounded and aching. No one deserved that. No one.

“Good,” Lance told him, slowly reaching a hand up. He placed it on Keith’s shoulder, and the boy turned his head slightly to look at it, his eyes shooting back to Lance accusingly, suspicious. 

“What are you-“ but before Keith could finish, Lance pulled him against him, tightly, a one-arm hug that left room for the other boy to flee if he didn’t want it. It never came, though. Lance felt the tension leave Keith in a silent exhale, felt the boy’s warm breath fan against his neck and collarbone, an attestation to his suffering. 

_That’s right. Let it out. You’re going to be okay, Kogane._

xx.

By the time Lance had dragged Keith into three stores, the older boy was itching to leave. He probably thought he was good at hiding it, but the signs were everywhere: searching the ceiling for security cameras, studying every person who entered and exited the storefront, arms crossed, tapping his boot as he leaned against displays, the hardness of his jawline, the defensive squint of his eyes.

“All right, Edgelord. Cut it out, I feel like I have a personal bodyguard.”

“Cut what out?” Keith asked.

“That. Exactly that. You’re being all intimidating and stuff.”

“How am I intimidating?”

“You know, unapproachable. You’ve got that look in your eyes like, ‘I’ll cut you if you come within ten feet of me.’” Lance side-eyed Keith, still holding a shoe he’d been examining. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were ready to kill someone.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Keith told him with a scoff, straightening up, pushing his gloved hands into his pockets. Lance smiled to himself at Keith’s change in posture, deciding intimidating Keith was actually pretty attractive, too. _Attractive, hey? Yeah… I guess he can be, sometimes…_ Lance tilted the white shoe in his fingers, wondering if this specific style would match his regular aesthetic, putting it back on the shelf a few moments later as a final decision. He shrugged, heading to the exit, watching movement from the corner of his gaze as Keith joined him.

“Wasn’t the right shade of white?” Keith asked playfully. Lance rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Mr. I-Only-Own-One-Pair-Of-Boots.”

“That’s all I need,” Keith said confidently, following Lance out of the store. “They go with everything, and they’re practical.”

“They do not go with everything,” Lance said with a snort, turning to look at Keith.

“Oh yeah? Name one time you’ve seen me that you specifically thought, ‘his shoes don’t match his outfit today,’” Keith challenged smugly. 

Lance narrowed his eyes. After a minute, Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “Owning one pair of boots is not something to brag about.”

“Owning a hundred pairs of shoes is not functional.”

“You don’t know anything about fashion,” Lance retorted. Keith turned his head away, but Lance caught the tail end of a grin before it disappeared out of view. His heart fluttered in his chest, the idea of Keith being attractive in the store- no, in general- coming back to the surface. Keith was attractive. Lance couldn’t deny it any longer, not after the realization that his body physically reacted to Keith. The blushing, the warmth, the breath catching, the butterflies… He looked away, too, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth, trying to force himself not to lose his composure.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Came a voice fifteen feet ahead. Lance stopped mid-step, forced out of his daydream by the familiar girl. His expression moved from startled to disinterested in a matter of seconds.

“Acxa,” Keith responded, bringing a hand up so he could shag his fingers through his hair. He also looked disinterested, and Lance wondered if he was mirroring him sub-consciously. Lance always tried to play it cool when Lotor’s crew came around. Keith though, this wasn’t like him.

“Acxa and Zethrid, what a surprise,” Lance said in a playful tone, lifting a hand so he could examine his cuticles. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“We were beginning to think you might not come back,” Zethrid said with an eyebrow raise, jutting a hip out, her biceps bulging as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her spiky blue and pink hair almost touched her shoulders, swaying as she tilted her head at the boys; compared to Acxa, she was a Viking. If it came down to a fight, he’d already decided to let Keith have a go at her. 

“You wish you were that lucky,” Keith muttered, and Acxa gave him a scathing look that spoke volumes.

“Does that mean you missed us?” Lance asked, his eyes lifting to Zethrid’s, throwing her a toothy smile. She smiled back but only briefly, dead-panning at him. “Well, I don’t need to say it, but I will because I love rubbing it in: Southend is still ours, and if I find out you’ve been encroaching…” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at the same time, pressing lips together, his look a mix of sympathy and satisfaction. “I’ll have to tell the boss.”

“Oh no, the Black Paladin? The Soldier of Southend?” Zethrid mocked, pretending to be afraid, her hands balled up near her face as if she could hide behind them. She lowered her arms again, and Lance felt an inkling of unease at the teeth she bared. “Shaking in my boots, McClain,” she hissed. “You know the Galran Empire is growing. Soon not even your Black Paladin will be able to stand up to Lotor. Make one wrong move, Prissy Boy, and I will gladly start the war we’ve all been waiting for.” Lance found himself lost for words, the menace in her message clear to him as he fought to keep his smile natural.

“Really, Axca? You’d let her start a war?” It was Keith’s voice. Lance’s eyes slid to Axca across from him, examining her proud stance and her athletic form. She had black hair that shone purple under the light, pulled back into a tight ponytail, her features cat-like as she watched them. If she wasn’t so scary all the time, Lance considered he’d probably find her drop-dead gorgeous. It was hard to get past the death glare though. Really hard.

“If she so chose,” Axca replied cryptically, and Lance realized she hadn’t taken her eyes off Keith yet. This always happened. Whatever had transpired between them was a mystery to Lance, but a mutual hatred had blossomed over the years that was obvious from both sides. He lifted his arm, leaning it on Keith’s shoulder, hoping to give him some mutual support.

“But she wouldn’t do that,” Lance said with a forced chuckle, “right, Zethrid? My one-and-only favourite Northend rival.”

“Lance, if I had permission, I’d rip your arms and legs off and mail them in individual packages to your mother in Cuba.”

“But you don’t have permission,” Lance said, his chuckle more nervous this time, “so doesn’t that just suck for all of us.”

“Clearly,” Zethrid replied, tapping Axca’s arm with her large hand, motioning forward with her chin. “Let’s get out of here before I teach this punk a lesson.”

“Mm,” Axca responded quietly, reaching up to pull her bangs out of her eye, her gaze moving to the floor as she turned to go.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Lance said as he lazily lifted the hand hanging off Keith’s shoulder, throwing the two girl’s a peace sign. Zethrid bared her teeth at him one last time before she followed after Axca, and Lance waited until they were across the atrium before he turned to Keith.

“You okay, bud?”

“Fine,” Keith replied. “Let’s just go.” Keith pushed Lance’s arm off of his shoulder and surged forward, leaving the brunette stumbling to catch up with him.

“Hey, wait up. Why are you in a hurry all of a sudden?”

“I just want to get out of here.”

“It’s neutral territory. You know they won’t try shit here.”

“You _don’t_ know that, Lance. Neutral territory sounds nice in theory, but Zethrid is itching for a reason to fight us. You saw her back there,” Keith cautioned, still storming down the corridor, weaving in and out of other people expertly. “We haven’t had as big a presence in the last two months, that’s a big deal. You say we control the drug trade, but do we really? Is our brand still number one on the market? Paladin supply gets around, but the Paladin’s don’t. We need to…” Keith stopped walking, and Lance nearly bumped into him, examining the side of his face curiously, “we need to mark our territory.” Lance’s lips parted. Seconds passed.

“You mean…”

“Yeah,” Keith said with finality, moving forward again. “We need to drop some tags.” Lance felt his fingers curl into an energetic fist, a sharp ‘yes’ hissing out of him as he jogged to catch up with his partner, grinning from ear to ear.


End file.
